by Kara Liane
I even opened my own cardiology practice down the street from our new home—after leaving the hospital for good. I was not going to be my dad. I cleared the air with my father right before the wedding; it was a relief. He was so proud of me. My mom was even more proud. I was putting my wife and daughter first, and I would set my own pace for my career. I already had enough money with investments, but the doctor in me knew I couldn’t not fulfill this calling.
Caylan expressed that she would want to pursue a career after our daughter’s first year of life. She would still ensure we went green around the house, but she wanted time with the baby—I was supportive either way. We even snatched Granny Lil away from my parents to help with being a full-time nanny for when Caylan would enter the job market. No, nanny wasn’t the right word. She was to be another grandma to our daughter. Caylan also had dreams of being a writer, and I highly encouraged it. She was seeking the advice of a publisher after the birth as well. She was too talented not to pursue this avenue.
As I looked around at all those seated nearest to me—strictly here for my wife—I was so overwhelmed. Meg would be graduating in the spring and she was jumping up and down out of her seat for her cousin. She was incessantly taking pictures and happened to be our photographer for our wedding, in addition to double duty as the maid of honor. She insisted on being in the delivery room taking pictures, but I put the kibosh on that.
Fred and Milly of course were here and were seated next to Brent. Brent had served as my best man, and my three best friends were my groomsmen. Even Liz was a bridesmaid. Seated on the other side of me were my parents, and Granny Lil. Seating was limited in the auditorium, but my dad and I managed to pull some strings to get extra tickets for this event. No way were any of us missing this incredible accomplishment.
I will admit Brent looked dapper in his Air Force uniform, in a heterosexual way mind you. But he was brooding. Something was bothering him. I was going to ask him what was wrong, but then I heard the words I had been waiting for.
“Caylan Bree Graham,” was announced at the podium.
Caylan walked across the stage with her hand on her tummy. I demanded she not wear heels and she complied after much convincing—it was safer this way. I’m sure I was driving her goddamn nuts and adding more stress, but I truly couldn’t fucking help myself. The lives of the most important females of my existence were on that stage. She caught my gaze and broke out in the biggest grin, then she blew me a kiss. I caught it in the air and put it to my lips. I didn’t care if anyone thought I was pussy-whipped—for all intents and purposes, I fucking was!
Milly was crying and Meg was snapping pic after pic. All of us clapped furiously and cheered her name, even though we were told to hold our applause. Screw that! I had a few surprises for Caylan up my sleeve that I couldn’t wait to unveil after the commencement ceremony ended.
For one, she didn’t know that I recently acquired a tattoo. We were still intimate, but I was a wreck over hurting her, so I limited my sexual contact. Even though as a doctor I damn well knew everything was fine, again it was another thing I couldn’t help myself about. Of course I fucking desired her 24/7, but she and the baby’s well-being were above any needs I had.
Christ, I even had a bunch of gadgets at the house to monitor her. She would not let me buy an ultrasound machine, though. Anyway, I would show her the tattoo tonight. It was in the same spot on my back as hers, and mine was also a set of wings. However, they looked more like eagle wings than angel wings. I had to make it more fucking manly of course. Then a saying in the middle reads, “My wings will always carry you, if yours ever fail to open.” I hoped she’d like it. I fucking thought it was badass, and the sentiment was the ultimate way to show her I’d never fail her. Her words in her journal always resonated with me, and I would carry them with me until my death. I was never in to tattoos, but maybe she was starting a new addiction for me.
Eventually I would get something tattooed to represent our daughter. Probably after she was born I would get her name incorporated in a design. We hadn’t settled on a name yet, so who knew at this point what it would end up being. I could happily report that it was a toss-up between Briannen and Emeline. Either I thought would be beautiful. I guess we’d have to wait until she was here to actually name her. I chuckled to myself thinking about how at our new house there was in fact a pink palooza explosion like I predicted, and I couldn’t fucking be any happier.
The other surprise I had for Caylan was in a small gift bag wedged in between my feet at the moment. Inside the bag was a baby gift. I had gotten a onesie for our little girl with writing across the front that said, “Temple Alumni.” I thought Caylan would get a kick out of it. Our daughter was present at many important events in our lives so far, so it was only fitting from start to finish for her to be there for our storybook romance. I knew she would be present while our story continued to unfold.
You see, our love is the kind of love that gets written in the stars, and put down on paper in books. Maybe Caylan would even write our romance one day. But for now…we had to finish making it!
The End
Please consider leaving a review on Amazon by visiting my Author Central Page at http://amzn.to/2xiS7vi, and selecting the corresponding book. I truly hope you enjoyed Caylan and Alexi’s steamy story, and that it offered you an escape from reality for a bit. Thanks again for reading!
Teaser: A Force of Nature (A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 2)
Can’t get enough of Caylan and Alexi? Here’s a sneak peek at Chapter 1 of the second book in A Tryst of Fate Series. This is Brenneth’s story entitled, A Force of Nature. However, Caylan and Alexi certainly make appearances, so you can catch up on their romance too. Happy reading you awesome-saucers!
A Force of Nature
(A Tryst of Fate Series Novel—Book 2)
by Kara Liane
Synopsis
Technical Sergeant Brenneth “Brent” Michael Peters, United States Air Force, is reporting for duty.
This is the second novel in A Tryst of Fate Series from writer Kara Liane. However, this steamy contemporary romance book can be read as a standalone. A Force of Nature follows this heartthrob hero on a journey through life in the military, as he finds love unexpectedly.
Brent is a complex, brooding sort with a heart of gold. He has seen a lot in his thirty-three years of life, and his eyes are filled with pain, sadness, and the horrors of his tours of duty overseas. He literally runs into Everly Reynolds at his sister’s college graduation. He finds himself struggling between wanting to challenge her snarky comebacks and ravishing her at first sight.
Everly is a thirty-two-year-old sassy, übercool, small-time reporter who covers various stories in the Philadelphia area. But underneath her bristly attitude lies a woman who recognizes Brent’s pain; it calls to her. She immediately feels a kinship forming between them but doesn’t know if she can take the leap needed to make Brent whole again.
See if these two can find their story even through the obstacles laid at their feet. One thing is for sure: Everly’s mouth can get her into trouble sometimes, but leave it to Brent to find a way to help her put her mouth to better use!
Will their meet-ups become a front-page item or yesterday’s news? Find out now!
Chapter 1: Falling Up the Stairs
Brenneth
December 17, 2016
I was sitting next to my brother-in-law, Alexi, at my little sister’s college graduation from Temple University. We were packed in the auditorium like sardines, and my air force blues uniform was suffocating me more each minute. The air tasted stale, and I was constantly fidgeting—to no fucking end. Let me be clear, though, in saying that I did want to be there. I was so proud of my little sis, Caylan, who happens to be Alexi’s wife. She graduated with honors with a bachelor’s in environmental science.
I am in awe of the woman she has become. I’ve always been incredibly overprotective of her, so after a recent attack and kidnapping by a pseudo
ex-boyfriend from our home state of Texas—and when I found out I had been left out of the ordeal of her first attack the year prior—I went ballistic. God, that’s a long story in itself. But as a family, we’ve worked through everything and agreed there would be no more secrets. I know why they kept me in the dark, though. They knew I would have gone after that worthless, doesn’t-deserve-to-live, piece-of-shit Greg after the first assault.
When he pursued her a second time, Alexi and I came to her rescue. We found her in an abandoned warehouse down by Penn’s Landing in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I had my finger on the trigger and the gun aimed right at Greg’s head. I almost fucking blew away the scumbag, but Caylan stopped me. With her being pregnant and scared, and in such a vulnerable state at that moment, it was a sobering experience. It snapped me out of my crippling rage. I had realized I couldn’t let her witness me become a killer, even if the bastard deserved it.
But it’s okay; he got it in the end. Moments after we fought off Greg and saved my sister, he fell into a hole in the floor at the warehouse that was on the river. All three of us watched the lowlife drown in the murky water at our feet. I still hadn’t lost one night of sleep over his death. What I had lost sleep over, though, was thinking about what she must have endured. The details of her attacks turned my stomach.
Christ, she’s my baby sister. How was I supposed to forgive myself for failing her? I’ve been trying to get better about realizing she’s not mine to watch over anymore. Well, of course I always would watch over her, but Alexi was the main man for the job now; the fucker makes that quite clear at every opportunity.
Caylan was right: I would have been discharged from the military and consequently thrown in prison if I had acted on my impulses about what to do to the little shit. I should be grateful in some ways that she never told me previously about the horrors. All that is holding me together these days is knowing I have a career and a job to do. This was a calling for me. I bleed fucking red, white, and blue. But my PTSD was bad, hence the problem I was having being stuffed into that place like cattle.
I kept wishing Greg had been there for me to take out all of my anger and frustration on. Pfft, he got off easy. I would have derived so much satisfaction from using him as a human punching bag, pummeling him into oblivion. That would have been well worth whatever consequences I would have faced. I wouldn’t have divulged that little fantasy to anyone, though. They’d have locked me up in some loony bin and thrown away the key. I’d surely have gotten med-boarded after intense psych evals, and my long fifteen years of military service would have been for nothing. No, no one could know my innermost thoughts.
I intentionally nudged Alexi in the side but played it off like it was accidental. I liked giving him a couple shots here and there. Don’t get me wrong, I like the dude, and he is good for my sister. But let’s face it—no guy will ever be good enough for Caylan. And damn Alexi for trying to do things his way all the time! Like I said, I’m still learning to step back and let him handle things when it comes to her, but it’s hard. I’m eleven years older than she is, so you have to understand that she’s always been my responsibility. I’ve never felt burdened by it, though. I love her so much.
I couldn’t believe I was going to be an uncle. Caylan was seven months pregnant at the time, with my niece. She wore pregnancy well. She glowed, and it was a sight to behold. There was no baby name then, so I’d taken to calling her “Lil’ Bits” since I used to call Caylan “Little Bit.” I hoped I wasn’t going to get deployed again anytime soon, that I’d actually be there for the birth. My “tempo band,” or deployment window rather, fell right around the time she was due. I had not been tasked yet, but I figured inevitably someone in my squadron would not have been able to fulfill the slot. That they’d probably send me back to one of the various wastelands. I was all healed up from my surgery the previous May. The doctors repaired my leg after an injury I sustained while I was in Afghanistan. I went through intense physical therapy for months, but I was fully cleared and ready to go.
Alexi had turned to me like he had something to ask, but then we heard the name we’d been waiting for announced from the stage.
“Caylan Bree Graham,” the announcer called out.
Caylan walked across the stage, and we all cheered, hooted, and hollered. Shit, I was so damn proud! She was going after her dreams. I need to take lessons from my little sis; I’ve wasted too many years not going after some of mine.
Once my sister’s name was announced, I couldn’t sit a moment longer. The walls were closing in on me. I was sweating profusely, and I knew I was about to rip my uniform to shreds any damn second, clawing it the hell off me. What a disgrace I’d be to my branch then.
I had to get the hell out of there. I abruptly stood up and damn near crushed the gift bag at Alexi’s feet. What a friggin’ pussy that one is. He spoils my sister, but I guess I should be grateful she has someone to dote on her. Damn, I only got her a card!
My parents and cousin Meg all had concerned looks on their faces as I darted out of the stadium seating. They probably thought I was losing it, but I didn’t give a fuck because I was. My heart was pounding so hard, I thought it would thump right out of my chest. I was clambering for the nearest exit. I frantically looked in all directions. It appeared up was the way to go. I continually stumbled and fell up the stairs trying to get my footing. What a freaking embarrassment. My shiny black shoes were surely scuffed up. This was not how I wanted to present myself to the world when I was in uniform. Being an airman is a way of life, not just a job.
I made it out through the exit and down the corridor. I was looking in both directions to find the goddamn restroom. The area was completely empty, which made me breathe a sigh of relief. I decided to turn right and head that way.
Out of nowhere, I ran into a woman.
It was a hard hit. After all, I am a big fucking guy. I just saw a mass of blonde curls and arms and legs flailing about.
“Shit!” I exclaimed as I tried to stand up.
Add a dirty uniform from the dusty floor to the list of things going wrong. I brushed off some of the dirt and then realized she was still on her ass with her head cast down. I didn’t know who ran into whom, but where the hell were my manners? I guessed they up and left with my goddamn brain when I ran from my seat. I’ve always tried to portray a gentleman when I wear my blues, but that day I was failing miserably on all counts. I reached down for the woman’s hand, and she looked up with disdain and annoyance etched on her face. I sucked in a sharp breath. If I wasn’t already sweating, I’d have been a friggin’ tidal wave of perspiration by then anyway.
Fuck, she was hot! She looked to be about my age, so I felt tongue-tied at first. Her face was heart-shaped and framed by bouncy golden spirals going off in every direction. She had emerald-green eyes and freckles splashed across her dusky-apple cheeks and narrow nose. Her lips were a delicate pink, and she had a dainty silver nose ring in her right nostril—it was sexy as hell. The matching silver hoops in her ears stuck out noticeably, but I didn’t make it past her face because she interrupted my gawking.
“Well, shit. What a nice greeting, soldier,” she grumbled.
I righted her onto her feet and took in the rest of her body. Unfortunately, it was well hidden behind layers of clothes. But I could tell she was lean. I’m six one, and she looked to be about five nine. She was wearing some kind of denim ballet slippers or flats—whatever chicks call them. Her flowy, ankle-length, patterned skirt gave her a bohemian-chic look. Her top was white and tucked into the skirt to give it that billowy effect. She’d paired those with a cropped denim jacket.
Shit, it’s a good thing I know a few terms about fashion from my baby sister, I laughed to myself.
Whatever this chick was wearing didn’t really matter, though. She could have been in tatters, and she would have looked just as alluring. How she’d stayed warm in it through the December cold was beyond me. With her golden skin, she belonged on a beach, not in Philadelphia.
She began tapping her foot, clearly waiting for something.
She ran into me, I realize when I replay the scene in my mind.
What, like an apology? Tough shit, cupcake.
“Airman,” I stated back.
“What?” she questioned me with snarkiness to her tone.
“I’m an airman, not a soldier. Airmen are in the air force. Soldiers are army. Big difference, sweetheart,” I clarified.
She scoffed and returned with, “Does it really fucking matter at this point? And don’t call me ‘sweetheart.’ I’m a woman. Big difference, buttercup.”
Wow, she had a damn mouth on her. I didn’t know if I liked it or not yet. With my hackles up, I decided to set the young woman straight.
“Fair enough, ma’am,” I said sarcastically.
She narrowed her eyes into tiny, piercing slits. If I know anything, I know women do not like to be called “ma’am” unless they’re much older. No woman likes to seem aged before her time. I stifled my laugh. Shit, she was easy to rile up.
This could actually be fun.
Normally the women I screwed around with just wanted a good time in the sack or some company to go to dinner and a movie with. I’d go out to bars or find lonely women who were fellow NCOs around the base to keep me company.
I’d never had a serious relationship. It was just too hard with all the deployments. Who in her right mind would voluntarily sign up for this kind of life? Being married to a service member is like being married to a ticking time bomb. You never know when the hell we might go off; I mean this in many different respects. We’re a unique breed because we have to be.
